


Captive

by snarknoir19



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Beating, Captivity, F/M, Face Slapping, Heroes & Heroines, M/M, Object Penetration, Protective T’Challa, Threats, Torture, bamf t’challa, fear wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarknoir19/pseuds/snarknoir19
Summary: Whump and cruelty.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Maria Hill/Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanov/T’Challa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Captivity

Maria Hill glared at her computer monitor, following the progress of the little blinking icon that represented Natasha Romanov. Maria had tracked the signal all the way to Heathrow airport and then on a confounding, zig zag pattern through the city of London until it began blinking stationary near the waterfront. Their nearest available agent she learned, was a mister Henry Lourdes who, at that moment, happened to have positioned himself comfortably on a bench on Maudlin’s Green. A short walk to Miller’s Wharf and around the corner to the beacon’s current location. Maria unconsciously gripped her pen tightly and waited. The confirmation came in two minutes later. Their agent had recovered the beacon. It had been taped to the back seat of a London cab parked at the corner of St. Katherine’s Way. The driver of which was enjoying a pipe and strolling the narrow Thames Path when Maria’s agent grabbed him. He had nothing to offer. Recalled nothing suspicious. And Maria had to accept the frustrating fact that they’d been tracking a decoy. A decoy who knew they were watching and who had neatly evaded capture. There was no note. No sign of the Black Widow. 

After several moments of cursing bitterly, Maria snatched up the phone and dialed Nick Fury. 

“Batroc’s gang was sighted in New York.” He spoke before she could begin her report. 

“Nick, London was a decoy.” 

“How long were you tracking?”

Maria estimated. Cited the hours. Fury was silent on the phone. “I think she’s in New York. I think she’s been there the whole time and they wanted us far away.” 

“I’ll contact Ste....” She started but he spoke over her. 

“No. T’Challa. Call T’Challa.”

“Nick I...”

“She’s family, Hill. Steve would be cautious and responsible. I don’t give a fuck about ‘cautious and responsible’ just now, Hill. I want her back.” Fury was terse and Maria could tell he was multitasking. 

She could here muffled voices and waited impatiently for him to return to the call. 

“We got confirmation on Batroc’s gang on the waterfront in the city. Major activity. Intel suggests an operation underway now. “

“You think they have her there?”

No answer. He was speaking with someone else again. Maria was highly impatient. What the hell was he doing?

“We just got a report from Brooklyn. A safehouse was compromised. One of their confidential informants reported a snatch and grab extraction.” His voice betrayed his anger. “A red haired female was seen carried into a utility van.”

“Fuck.”

“They’ve had her for 23 hours.”

“Fuck.”

“Standby. Van last seen headed in direction of waterfront....”

“....Hill, get ahold of T’Challa now. He’s in New York. Tell him it’s The Widow and you tell him I said he has carte blanche.”

T’Challa’s phone rang in the middle of the night. The number revealed the caller was Maria Hill. A call from that number at this time of night could only mean trouble. He answered on the second ring. 

Maria didn’t even try to conceal her worry.

..

T’Challa was suited up and on his way to the roof of his apartment in seconds. By the time he had his personal attack craft unveiled and ready less than a minute had lapsed. Black gloved fingers flicked a switch disengaging the noise baffling system, forsaking stealth for pure, staggering speed. 

And sharply working the sensitive controls T’Challa guided the world’s most sophisticated attack vehicle thundering through the low air space.

As the waterfront appeared in his view screen he activated the crafts stealth mode and made his final approach in silence. 

Maria had not updated him with revised intel on Natasha’s whereabouts. He would have to explore on foot. 

Securing the craft in hover mode, T’Challa exited and dropped the 40 feet to the ground. 

Inhumanly acute senses scanned the darkness. If she was nearby he would be able to detect her. He would just have to cover a great deal of area. 

The aircraft was remotely placed into drone mode and he selected a preprogrammed destination. The unique craft was sent back to its hanger atop his apartment building, a silent, agile shadow gliding by in the darkness overhead. 

T’Challa was another silent shadow passing through darkness. Soundlessly covering ground like a great cat. 

The drug deal near the dumpster was undisturbed. He left no hint of his presence among them. 

Enhanced senses scanned the vicinity but turned up nothing. It was too quiet. 

With that, the Black Panther had entered the hunt. Someone had taken her and, in doing so, had made an incalculably stupid decision. There would be no mercy given. ‘Carte Blanche’ Maria had said. They had no idea the levels of destruction he could bring. 

He forced the thought from his mind and concentrated his focus. Expanding his senses outward he slowed his breathing and concentrated as he moved. Building by building he raced along the pier. He moved at remarkable speed. Well beyond what his friends and allies would have believed. Thank Bast for that. 

T’Challa didn’t bother interrogating any of the night people he moved past. Each remained oblivious to his presence among them. The intoxicated were unreliable. The cop and the call girl behind the fogged windows of the patrol car were unlikely to have noticed anything. 

If Natasha had been anywhere near he would be able to detect her. T’Challa’s superhuman senses were sifting through thousands of pieces of data. Even his closest allies were unaware of the full extent of his abilities. And so he progressed through the night. Swift and silent death racing on foot. Closing in on his quarry. 

And then with a shock one of those remarkable senses registered the special, unique scent of his quarry: the Black Widow. Natasha was near and...he concentrated ... it was the smell of fear. 

...


	2. Survive.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following is dark. Evil dark. And just plain mean...  
> Please note this right from the start as any number of trigger warnings would apply to what follows.

Her head hurt. Everything hurt.  
Natasha was on her knees. The brute’s hand was fisted so, so tightly in her hair, effectively holding her still. There were others standing by around her. Watching. Leering. Too close. All of them. She didn’t know how long she’d been in this position but the pain in her body felt like an eternity. It overrode everything else. 

She clutched her broken arm to her side as tenderly as she could and instinctively tried to control her breathing. Breathing was the worst, a much sharper pain than the throb of her broken arm, as every little movement sent white hot shards of pain lancing through her side. At least one broken or fractured rib? She’d heard the snap of her arm bone. She didn’t know which of his kicks had broken her ribs. Maybe two of them. Her left ankle throbbed. That was a henchman’s work. A severe joint lock when she was exhausted and he’d captured a missed kick. 

The pig holding her, Batroc, loomed over her, taunting her. He stank. He’d smelled bad during their fight and he smelled bad now. Sour body odor mixed with cheap, heavy cologne. It occurred to her that she would never forget the smell of him. If she lived.

His grip in her hair tightened again suddenly and she forced herself to comply when he tilted her head back so that she faced directly up to him. It was a strain. The criminal seemed to get off on inflicting pain and watching her expressions, she remembered, and so tried to deny him the satisfaction by showing none. 

Keeping his tight hold in her red hair, he drew back his other thick arm and backhanded her. Hard. He reached way out to his other side and slapped her the other way. Harder. Back and forth, then. Once, twice, three times. The last crack echoed in the empty warehouse. 

She felt blood trickle from her nose and seep from the split in her lower lip. The fucking bastard. 

Batroc sneered down at her as he drew his arm back again. Deliberately slow and dramatic and then he paused. Her scalp was on fire from the fist clenched so tightly in her hair. Natasha hated him in that moment like she hadn’t hated in a very long time and she was overcome by the urge to spit at him.

The pig just held her there and tilted her head back even further and Natasha could only clutch her broken arm against the pain.

“Nothing to say my dear?” His voice dripped with condescension.

“Nothing besides that you are a fu....” 

(Smack!)

“The (Slap) mighty (crack) fucking (smack) Widow (crack) Speaks!”

(slap..smack..slap..smack..slap..smack)” Alternating backhand and forehands reddened her face until he finally stopped and lowered his arm. He stared down at her impassively and when her chin wobbled ever so slightly, he smiled. 

As much as she hated the stinging humiliation it was nothing compared to the hurt from her other injuries. She would take it and hold it together until a plan emerged or fortunes shifted in her favor. For now, she was injured and flanked by his armed men and couldn’t risk worsening her broken ribs. 

His grip in her hair kept her in place and facing directly up to him. Natasha saw the glint in his eye as he drew his arm back again only to stop and examine something on his hand. 

She saw him studying both sides of his open hand and after blinking away the wetness in her eyes she realized what he was seeing: her blood. She could see it there herself, glistening wetly in the glare from the overhead lights.

Pleased with what he saw the pig relaxed his hold and stepped back. He held his hand up for his crew to see. 

“And that, gentleman, is how you get her attention.” He smiled at their appreciative comments and laughter, and reached back for something in a cargo pocket which he held up for display.

“This.” Batroc was speaking again. “This, This little toy here?” He held up one of her electric stun batons. 

“I believe this toy belongs to you, my dear.” He paused to watch her reaction and smiled slowly. Giggled. 

“That’s right. It’s the same little electric cattle prod you fried me with. Right here.” He gestured to a spot on his thigh just below his groin. 

“I gotta say: It’s got a serious kick to it.” His smile spread wider.  
“Any guesses what I’m going to do with it? ...No?...No guesses at all?....well, then I’ll just go on and tell ya. Because,sweetie, you and me are gonna be really intimate pretty soon and really, it’s all about the communication. Couples gotta communicate.”

Batroc leaned closer and spoke in a patronizing, sing song: 

“I’m going to shove it in your ass.” 

Muffled laughter from the two thugs flanking her. Batroc joined them. His own dirty giggle a contrast to his imposing appearance. 

After a moment he composed himself, his attention drawn to the baton. He held it aloft and sighted down its length. He weighed it in his hand. And then nodding to himself like he’d settled on a plan he handed the baton off to one of his crew with instructions.

“Pauli? I want you to draw me a dotted line around that fucking thing at six inches. No wait: You know what?...Let’s be generous: Seven inches. She’s a tough bitch, she’ll appreciate the extra love.” 

More laughter. 

“Boss, you got lube for that thing?”

“Lube? Seriously? Actually.....you know what? yeah. That’s smart Pauli. We don’t wanna kill her.” 

He gestured toward the back of the shop. 

“Check the fridge. Gotta be some mayo or mustard or something in there. Get a pen, mark this off at seven inches, then grease that fucking thing up to the dotted line and bring it back here. We’re gonna have a party and we got us some celebrity entertainment.”

The sudden slap spun her face to the side in a spray of red hair. 

“check this out.” He released her hair and moved to crouch behind her. 

Natasha suddenly felt a tug at the back of her uniform and then cool air at her lower back and realized he’d slashed open the back of her clothing. 

“So boys. It’s gonna go like this. “ Batroc was gloating now. Cutting the lower half of her costume away. 

“The celebrity hero here is going to start offering us information.” 

“...but see; she’s a hero after all and she’s gonna need to withhold that information. Gotta ‘fight the good fight’ as the saying goes. And that my friends, is where the toy comes in.”

“...To help her with motivation, with memory, I’m going to press that nasty little toy against her tight little asshole.” Bartoc leaned closer: “it’s still tight I assume?” 

More chuckling from his thugs. 

“Either way I’m going to start sliding...”. Natasha felt the harsh tug of her lower costume abruptly torn and shoved down her thighs to bind around her knees. 

“.....Well...that’s unexpected.” 

She’d worn modest, plain white underthings beneath her costume. 

“Obviously those will have to go. Allow me to help you dear.” 

She felt his thumbs slide inside her waist band and pushed the flimsy garment halfway down her ass. 

“Oh how I love my work.”

“Here ya go boss.” Pauli called out approaching eagerly. 

“Excellent. Was it the mayo?” 

“Yeah.” 

“An excellent choice my friend.”

Natasha grit her teeth. Determined to give them nothing. Tried to prepare herself. Other members from his group were gathering. A car door slammed and, just for a instant, her heart jumped at the thought that help had arrived. Instead two more of Batroc’s goons entered the shop. 

“Aw man you started without us.”

“Relax. Bring that crate over here so I can sit down.”

Natasha was pushed forward and had to release her arm to catch herself and protect her ribs. The pain made her breath catch and she was frozen in agony. 

“You go ahead and make yourself comfortable babe. Face on the floor.” Laughter swelled around her. 

Her panties were snatched down and she jumped at the abruptness with which she was chillingly bared. Bare and exposed to their eyes. Natasha focused on the concrete floor. Anything would suffice: A pattern. A texture. A place in which to lose herself. A snowy day in Iceland. She thought of a kind man from Wakanda who made her feel cared for. 

A broad hand suddenly cupped her ass and she jumped which made her side flinch and sent spikes of agony around her ribs. 

More laughter. 

Natasha fought to control her breathing. She would not scream. She wouldn’t fucking cry for them. What she would do was survive this so she could kill them slowly. 

The hand on her ass rested there casually. “So here’s the deal Red.” The pig patted her affectionately and she seethed. “This little toy of yours, I’m about to park it in the ‘ole keister.” He held it near her for her to see and, despite herself, she glanced and saw the greasy shiny surface. 

“Now Red, don’t you worry. Way I see it, you’ll be fine. I mean: after all, you lit me up with it right? Didn’t seem too worried about the effects of frying someone else with this thing. You’ll appreciate, I think, the efforts of my able assistant here, Pauli. He carefully slathered this thing with a nice, greasy condiment for your cornholing pleasure. Now, personally I’d think you’d want to show him your appreciation, huh?” Batroc chuckled.

“I mean, just out of basic decency.” The laughter among the group was quieter now. There was a sense of urgent anticipation. 

“Pauli though, he’s a bit worried you might be a biter. You wouldn’t bite him now would ya?”

“I guess we’ll get to that later. You’re probably eager to get started I bet.” He patted her ass again and held the baton aloft.

“Now, I’m sure a worldly gal like you is somewhat..experienced shall we say, so I anticipate a minimum of screaming,”. 

“Later once I’ve shoved this to the dotted line, I’m gonna start asking you questions. Every answer I don’t like? I hit the joy buzzer.”

“We on the same page?” He leaned close. “ what’s that Red?”  
He straightened up and turned to his crew. “That was some pretty unladylike shit right there, so I’m not gonna repeat it.”

Laughter broke out again as he laid the tip at the center of her back and slowly dragged a greasy, wet line down over each vertebrae to the base of her spine, stopping in the cleft of her ass where she reflexively clenched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may darken a bit, or, perhaps change direction dramatically. Open to suggestions.


End file.
